Starving in 1994
by LoveStoryMermaid
Summary: Damon and Bonnie have been trapped in the prison world for months before ever finding sign that anyone else is around. Bonnie's had Damon's pancakes to eat. But, what has Damon been doing for food?


**Starving in 1994**

"You have got to be kidding me." Bonnie all but groaned, walking into the kitchen. There was Damon in that ridiculous redneck plaid shirt, again, making pancakes, again, but this time he'd turned on _I Like to Move It_. "I am _going_ to kill you, you know that, right? You can't change your shirt. You insist on making silly face pancakes with your own personal spin on them every goddamn day. But, it's the music you decide to change. To THIS?!"

Damon didn't answer her at first, just kept jamming in the kitchen and flipped the pancakes out of the pan onto a plate. He added the whip cream fangs he knew she loved to hate and served them to Bonnie. "You know you like them. And if you don't, then by all my means, Bon Bon, make your own breakfast…" He trailed off, adding quietly, "At least you have something to eat."

"What was that?" Bonnie mumbled through a mouthful of pancakes with a whip cream mustache.

Damon would never admit that that childlike mustache was one of the few things that helped him get through the day and was a large part of why he insisted on making it that way. The effect today was no different as he barely concealed a laughing smile.

"Don't look at me like that," Bonnie challenged. "It's kind of creepy."

"Well, creepy's my thing, sweetheart. In case you haven't noticed, you're stuck in eternal sunshine 1994 with your least favorite vampire. Creep comes with the terrain."

Bonnie rolled her eyes.

Damon finished cleaning up the breakfast after having stomached a small pancake he'd made for himself. It was a growing problem that added ever more evidence to this being his personal hell theory. There wasn't a soul around…besides Bonnie. And he hadn't had anything to really _eat_ since they'd landed here, a few days ago. And it was becoming more and more painfully obvious as Damon tried to move around like nothing more was wrong. "Bonnie, why don't you go grab a dictionary and see if you can't figure out that crossword," Damon suggested. "I need to go check on something."

Bonnie snorted and muttered a curse under her breath before begrudgingly taking the suggestion. Damon couldn't say he blamed her, but it at least meant she wasn't following.

Damon and Bonnie had agreed to hole up at the Salvatore house, which was at least something, you would think. Damon made his way to the basement, where there should be stores of blood bags. Particularly in 1994, Stefan had been home. Damon clung onto that hope, futile as he was afraid it might end up being. He opened the refrigerator and sure enough, slammed it back closed with enough force Bonnie probably heard it. And groaned, realizing it was also about the last real strength he had. The fridge was bone empty. Because it was his 1994, not Stefan's. And either good Uncle Zach had decided to not make it easy on vampires living there or the witches were sending another fuck you message to him. Take your pick, but he was more likely to believe the latter. He'd already looked around town over the previous days. It was empty. And there were no butcher stores around. Any other stores that might have had discarded blood supplies, were stripped clean. The hospital had been his first stop. Go figure, not a single blood bag in supply there either. Damon sunk to sit on the floor. It was more comfortable.

"Damon?" He heard Bonnie call some time later.

Damon sighed and decided he was at least not going to pull a Stefan and sit down there feeling sorry for himself. He groaned again as he got up, his nerves starting to burn in protest. But, it's not like it was his first time in a tight spot with limited blood. He could do this.

Bonnie came down the stairs, "There you are." And she made an exasperated face, seeing the bottle he'd picked up for cover. "Tell me you came down here for a drink. Seriously?"

Damon couldn't help it, he started laughing. Bonnie was right, but not by her definition.

"Why are you laughing at me?! Look, while you were down here drowning your sorrows, I was actually trying to do some work that might be helpful. Look what I found." She held out a thick, leather bound book. When Damon just looked at it, she exasperatedly explained, "My gram's grimoire. I think I found a spell that can use the eclipse to get us out of here."

Damon didn't want to be idiot enough to cling back to another piece of hope, but he'd be willing to at least chance it under the circumstances. He forced him to focus on Bonnie's excited face rather than focus on how her heartbeat sped up in excitement. "Good job, Bonnie. Sorry. You're right. If you think it's worth a shot, by all means, let's give it a shot."

Bonnie smiled in proud satisfaction, "Thank you. The eclipse has already passed today, but I think we can work on gathering some herbs and other ingredients so we can be ready to try tomorrow."

Damon gave her a small smile. "Tomorrow it is, then. What d'ya need Bon Bon?"

* * *

It took Damon a few extra minutes to get up and get down to the kitchen that day. He granted himself a thread of hope that Bonnie's plan would work. But, in the much more likely case that it didn't, he decided trying to be nice couldn't hurt. He hated to admit it, but he needed Bonnie. So, this morning's music pick was back to _Connected_. And he'd left out the whip cream fangs that she insisted she hated. It got her attention.

Bonnie frowned suspiciously as he served her the impressively vampire free pancakes. "No fangs today?"

Damon shrugged, and tried not to wince doing so. "You said you hated them and you are the one who's going to get us out of here today, so I figured I could try not to be a jerk for one day."

"How considerate of you." Though, Damon didn't miss the smile that lasted for a minute before turning into what almost could be mistaken for slight disappointment.

Later, Damon asked, "It's almost eclipse time. You've got everything you need?"

Bonnie looked over the setup that had taken replaced their breakfast layout on the kitchen table. "Sage, nightshade, pentagram…. Yeah." She smiled triumphantly at him and looked up at the approaching eclipse. "Let's go home." The spell required Bennett blood and she cut her wrist, chanting the incantation. Nothing seemed to happening. Bonnie closed her eyes and focused harder, repeating the _Sanguinum Meyarma, Ascendarium Cava._

The eclipse was passing its peak overhead and nothing had happened. Bonnie frowned over the grimoire, not yet angry but trying to figure out what had gone wrong. Damon was focused instead on the precious drops of blood in the bowl and that were still trickling from Bonnie's wrist.

Bonnie looked up at that moment and stepped back sharply, seeing the veins around his eyes. "Damon? When was the last time you had any…"

"Blood?" He strained. "A few days. There's no stores, we know there's no people, the hospital's got no stocked bags and even the basement here is empty." Damon pleaded, "Bonnie…there's no other source here. I've checked."

Bonnie drew back, more indignant. "You're asking to feed from me?! No way in hell!"

"Bonnie, please, I'm asking. Which I pretty much have done…never. But, you know what'll happen eventually if I don't get something to drink."

"That's what you were doing this morning." She realized, but still shook her head, rejecting the idea. "We're not going to be here that long. We're going to get out tomorrow. I, I think I just said some words wrong. We're going to get out of here and you're going to get home and it won't be an issue."

Damon snarled. "We're not going to get out of here, Bonnie! Wake up! Look around. There is no one here! You haven't had your powers in _months! _You seriously think you're going to magically have them reappear in this hell! We. Are. Not. Getting. Out!

Bonnie swallowed, still retreating and trying to refuse to believe what was happening. She replied slowly, tightly. "Your hell. Not mine. I'm going to find us a way out of here, Damon. Give me 24 hours, please. I'm asking you."

Damon took a few breaths before nodding and motioning to her still oozing wrist. "Then get out of here, and go figure something out."

Damon sighed as he leaned back against the counter. He was being stupid. Since when did he ask someone's permission to feed from them? When he was starving, no less? But, something in him had felt like he owed her that much. And he'd be damned if he knew why. But, it still didn't change the fact that he was starving. The smell of blood was still poignant in the room and Damon noticed that the drops hadn't yet completely dried up. A few drops would bide him till tomorrow. He lapped up the precious crimson drops like a dog to water. And immediately spit the few drops back out on reflex. It was just a few drops, but he could still taste the vervain.

* * *

"No pancakes this morning?" Bonnie inquired, half disappointed, before noticing Damon's face.

Damon was glaring at Bonnie with such malice he watched her freeze when she realized it. "You know, it's a small miracle I didn't bleed you out last night. You better hope you can get us out of here today."

"Damon, what are you going on about?"

"You're on vervain!" He all but growled. "So, you want something to eat, Bonnie. Go get it yourself! At least you have something to eat!"

"Damon, I really don't know what you're talking about, I swear." Bonnie answered in a scared whisper. "Even if I wanted to, I've had more priority things to be looking for."

Damon frowned and studied her a moment before relenting. "I believe you. Sorry, but can you blame me for the assumption?" He paused. "I'm starving, Bonnie. Yesterday, after you left, I figured the drops of blood you'd left on the table weren't serving any other purpose and I just needed something. And it burned with vervain."

Bonnie took a tentative step forward, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, Damon. Not to my knowledge. I don't know, maybe something I've been eating is laced with it?"

"We've both eaten the pancakes, that's not it. And it's not the water, I've been washing dishes every day…." Then, Damon placed it and couldn't help but smirk. "Bonnie. I've been drinking bourbon to take the edge off. But… I haven't yet touched the coffee you've had every day."

"No!" Bonnie cried. "No, Damon, I gotta have coffee!"

"1994. Zach Salvatore. I wouldn't have put it past that hippie to come up with his own coffee blend that included vervain. He had made it crystal clear he'd been stocking it up everywhere he could."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have killed his pregnant wife!" Bonnie pouted. "Now I can't have coffee!"

Damon had to laugh at that and Bonnie realized how it'd sounded. "That's really petty. I didn't mean that. But, really…no coffee?"

Damon appreciated the unsaid implication in what she was saying, though, and granted. "You said we were going to get out of here today, yea? So, this is a nonissue, Bon Bon. Let's go try again."

"Elena, Coffee, Food, Home… Ok. I've got this. _Sangina Mearma, Ascendarum Cavea." _The eclipse was overhead and again, there wasn't even a whisper of wind in response.

Damon grabbed her hands tightly, in part a reflex in response to the blood dripping from her wrist—inedible as he knew it was—and in part fighting it with a sincere plea for this to work and get them both home. "Come on, Bonnie."

"_Sangina Mearma, Ascendarum Cavea." _Nothing. The sun was back to shining overhead.

Bonnie's eyes were shining in disappointment and frustration. "I'm sorry, Damon…."

Damon closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall. After a few minutes, Bonnie asked tentatively, "How….how long does it take for vervain to get out of the system?"

Damon opened his eyes, looking directly at her. "Usually about a day."

"Can you do that?"

Every fiber and vein in his body wanted to tell her no, wanted to tell her that he needed to feed right now and that meant compelling her to stay still while he bled the vervain out of her and then drank the rest. But, one, he knew what her reaction would be; two, he realized he didn't want to have to; and three, he'd risk killing her with that much blood loss and how hungry he was. For once, he was trying to uncharacteristically do the right thing; but, he'd also be lying to himself if he ignored the more practical reason that he just really didn't want to be left here to rot alone. But, no matter, he wasn't going to hurt Bonnie. He'd been through worse in the past, after all. He could survive another day or two.

* * *

The next day, they'd tried to forget the disappointments of yesterday and let themselves fall back into the mind numbing routine that effectively erased the day before. Still, it'd been nearly a week without a drop of blood and his body was profoundly protesting that fact. It felt like he weighed 500 pounds and every moment felt like he was tearing something. He was trying to flip pancakes and give Bonnie a normal day again, but even that was excruciating difficult as he wanted to wince every time he flipped the spatula.

"Damon," Bonnie pleaded, not quite missing all the efforts to hide his pain from her.

"You've already graciously giving up your morning coffee for me, Bon Bon. There's nothing else you can do. I'll be fine."

Bonnie realized how sick Damon really was starting to look, sweating and starting to look dusky. "Hey, how about I take care of the dishes, today?"

Damon was finding it a little difficult to breathe and his throat burned, feeling like every ounce of moisture had been vacuumed out of it. He reached for a glass of water and nodded consent about the dishes, not feeling an inch bad about adding another dish for her to wash.

Yet, the witches hated him. That much was clear. Anywhere else the vervain should have been out of Bonnie's system by now. When he'd tasted the blood Bonnie used on stubbornly trying the spell again, it was definitely weaker, but still too diluted with vervain for him to have any amount of it. Tomorrow, it should be gone, he assured her.

* * *

"Damon?" He heard Bonnie call, clearly wondering where he was. He'd heard her get up and walk downstairs, where he had not made it to yet this morning. He'd figured he was far more comfortable than trying to move yet that morning. "Damon?" She called again, closer this time, but more panicked.

"Damon! Oh my God!" She'd found him, lying still in bed with a distinct grey color to his skin and looking past exhausted. "No, nonono, you don't get to leave me here alone!"

Still, he was plenty awake, as was made all too obvious from the rough, crinkled feeling of sand in his veins. He took a breath and sat up slowly. "It takes longer than that to get rid of me, Bon Bon," he whispered. "Just felt like sleeping in a little today, was all."

Damon wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to control himself as he tore his focus from Bonnie's carotid to her face, asking permission. Thing was, he knew he'd never hear the end of it and it just might be easier to lay here and rot than have her hate him for eternity if he took the choice away from her. God, if they ever did get back, he'd have to tell Elena how much she'd rubbed off on him.

He'd not seen Bonnie look at him before the way she was now—a little scared, a little upset, but also concerned and kind—as she nodded. Damon half expected the witches to just keep the vervain in her system out of spite, but he didn't let himself think of the possibility. In the next second, Damon picked his target, biting carefully into her carotid. He closed his eyes in relief, feeling the sweet tinge of warm, untainted blood surge into his system. He could have more, but he had heard the familiar squeak of protest and didn't want to be greedy. Bonnie had already been more than fair to him and he didn't want to take that for granted. He backed off, instantly feeling better as he felt his color return and the pain vanish from his veins. "Thank you, Bonnie."

Bonnie nodded, giving him a small attempt at a smile. "We're stuck here, together, after all." "We'll make it work, Damon," she promised. She accepted Damon's offer to bandage her neck before flippantly requesting, "Now, you're not the only one who needs to eat and my pancakes are late."

Damon chuckled, "Right away, Ms. Bennett."


End file.
